


Four Stories Jack Harkness Doesn't Tell in Bed (and One He Does)

by lightgetsin



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Pillow Talk, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-24
Updated: 2006-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightgetsin/pseuds/lightgetsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever loved someone that much?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Stories Jack Harkness Doesn't Tell in Bed (and One He Does)

Ianto wanted to talk afterward, to Jack’s surprise. And he definitely seemed fine with staying put, mashed together on the cramped sofa, the sweat cooling on their bare skin. Jack hadn’t expected that; Jack hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Ianto told a dryly hilarious story about the time he and his girlfriend had gone at it in her parents’ basement laundry room, wedged up between the dryer and an ironing board which had chosen the moment of truth to come loose from its peg and fall on Ianto’s head. Jack was already laughing into the cushion and Ianto’s neck when he put together the oblique hints and realized the girlfriend in question was Lisa. Ianto was still boneless against him, eyes half-closed, bruises already coming up on his biceps from Jack’s rough handling.

He hadn’t expected this either, this strange slip slide from base animal passion into the realm of comfort, companionship. This was supposed to be . . . well, this wasn’t supposed to be at all. But here they were, three in the morning and alone in the hub -- aside from the snoozing pterodactyl and the cells downstairs. Ianto had kissed him like he’d just as soon strangle him, they’d fucked hard and fast on the couch with Ianto gasping out melodic Welsh curses as his nails dug into Jack’s back, and now here they were, exchanging ‘cramped and uncomfortable places I’ve fucked’ stories.

Well, Jack could play this game.

Not the orgy on Tacitus Major, he decided quickly – he could scrub it up for terrestrial consumption, sure, turn the enormous tusked Zambrian into a wild boar or something. But that was more of a party piece, a story that told the listener that yes, Jack Harkness really did put his cock where his mouth was, want to have a go for yourself? Jack was pretty sure Ianto had figured that out a long time ago, and now he knew for sure.

Not the mad trend for antigrav that had swept the galaxy when he was a teenager – there really was no way to describe the enormous floating pleasure domes where you could screw upside down and backwards and in stacks of seventeen if you wanted, as long as you past the anti-grav swim test and got yourself sterilized for the weekend. Hadn’t been particularly cramped, anyway.

That little interlude on Tralus had been very close quarters. And his staff did already know about his penchant for . . . life forms in all their wonderful variety. But perhaps not, Jack decided – even people of his century had found the prospect of three hundred suction-cup limbs a bit off-putting. Didn’t know what they’d been missing, the lot of ‘em.

Definitely not the encounter with Madonna when she’d been touring Europe in the early nineties. He’d been curious and she’d still been suffering an eighties hangover, and either Ianto wouldn’t believe him and it’d be awkward, or he would and it would be . . . well, it would just be _embarrassing_. What had he been thinking?

“I traveled with these people for a while,” Jack said. “A long time ago. And we ended up in a phone box.” He paused, contemplatively. “Quite a lot, actually.”

“A phone box?” repeated Ianto. “How many of you?” He sounded resignedly curious, awaiting a cast of thousands.

“The three of us. And it was a lot less cramped than you might think,” said Jack, wondering what the hell he was doing. Talk about having to sanitize for the terrestrial palate. Not like he could explain the control room, the endless corridors, the enormous beds, the whole thing tucked away in a fold of the universe’s skirts; the best secret he’d ever known.

“Who were they?” Ianto asked with sudden intentness, and Jack wondered with a guilty start what expression had been showing on his face.

“Oh, just some travelers,” Jack said. “She was young, blonde. London girl with legs that never quit. He was –“ _Mercurial, magnetic, absorbing, dangerous. Wildly generous to those permitted close, but careful to keep the entire universe at arms length. A man who could change worlds and single, lowly human spirits with the same casual arrogance. _ “—the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

“What happened to them?” asked Ianto.

“We split up,” Jack said, and shrugged. “Things got complicated, and we lost each other. I doubt they looked for me – I’m sure he didn’t.”

“What about you?” Ianto asked quietly, the gently rounded words dropped softly into Jack’s ear. “Did you look?”

“Don’t need to,” Jack said. “I know where they are. He’s still traveling. She’s dead.” He paused, exhaled carefully. “At Torchwood Tower, in fact.”

“Oh.” It was a small sound. They were whispering, Jack realized, as if someone might be listening in on them in the empty hub. “Was she converted?” Ianto asked.

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “I didn’t get there in time. But her name is on the list of the missing. And if she were alive, if there was any chance, he would find her. There’s nothing in the universe that could stop him.”

Ianto watched him from only an inch away, their breath mingling between them. Jack was reminded suddenly how damn good he was at that, at watching and absorbing and moving on, taking a piece of your secrets with him so quietly that you sometimes didn’t even notice. Jack had a pretty good idea what Ianto was getting off him right now, and he wished he’d chosen another story, any story.

“I’m sorry,” said Ianto. He sounded like he meant it. Jack hadn’t expected that, either. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been offered grace like that, shriven clean with just a few brief words. It was something that, with time, he’d learned not to want anymore.

“Thank you,” he said. “But it’s all right.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “We keep going. The world moves on.”

“I know,” said Ianto, and his voice only shook a little.


End file.
